


Unconditional

by starkboi



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Angst, Drabble, Gen, Pre-Captain America: The Winter Soldier, steve misses his mom, that's it that's the fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-10
Updated: 2018-07-10
Packaged: 2019-06-08 01:34:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 695
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15232443
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/starkboi/pseuds/starkboi
Summary: "When Steve thinks of her enough, closes his eyes hard enough, he can remember the golden color of her hair, and how no matter what, she always smelled like comfort and home."Or, Steve wakes up from a bad dream and makes a pot of coffee, here's why.





	Unconditional

**Author's Note:**

> this is an excerpt from a wip fic i decided to scrap, but i loved this scene enough i reworked it to stand alone.
> 
> for context, it's set in the time between the end of the avengers and the beginning of ca:tws, specifically in steve's apartment in d.c. (which, in my opinion, we were robbed of seeing the full beauty of)
> 
> please, enjoy!

He doesn’t dream of her often, but when he does, it’s almost worse than the nights he dreams of snowy mountain tops, and ice cold water.

Steve knows his mother loved him with her entire being. With everything she had, she loved him, he knows that.

The guilt of it hangs heavy over his head to this day.

When he pulls himself out of bed and checks the time on his phone, Steve decides 3:48 is early enough to start his day, and heads towards the kitchen for some coffee. He knows all too well what’s waiting for him in his subconscious if he were to let his head hit the pillow again.

His apartment is old enough that the floorboards creak under his feet if stepped on just right, and Steve knows some SHIELD agent out there picked out his furniture, modern enough to look nice but not to the point Steve’s afraid to be comfortable on them.

It’s his own little corner of the world, away from the role of Captain America. Yet lately, when he’s here, it always feels like he’s waiting for the rug to be pulled out from under him. For it all to be taken away, and he’ll be swept up in another battle, another war.

His old apartment, from before, was nowhere near as nice, and only a quarter of the size.  It was also where he had lived with his mother for most of his life.

When Steve thinks of her enough, closes his eyes hard enough, he can remember the golden color of her hair, and how no matter what, she always smelled like comfort and home.

She didn’t deserve to die as young as she did. She worked so hard to keep up with the costs of being a single mother with a sick kid. Eventually, she worked herself sick.

Steve remembers one particularly bad winter, where the chill seeped into him quicker than most kids, and he was bedridden for the better part of a month. The ward wouldn’t let her take any time off to tend to him, and she would sooner die herself than let him spend all day alone in their heatless, too small apartment.

She paid for her decision later, and it still makes Steve’s blood boil to think of how they’d made her work three times extra for such little pay. Barely enough to cover the cost of a sack of potatoes every other week and a loaf of bread just days away from molding.

He was kept alive because of his mother, even when sometimes he wanted to give up. Ready to let the illnesses finally take him just so she could have more for herself, so she could find some solace. He’d never admitted it, and he knows now that he had just felt cripplingly useless.

Even when he was a child, Steve never wanted to be a burden.

All Steve can do now is make it up to her in any way he can.

He does so in waking up every morning, and putting on a pot of coffee even though its caffeine does nothing for him.

Back when Steve was well enough to take on small jobs, he saved every cent he had for a bag of coffee for his mom. Nothing made him happier than watching her every morning, humming at the first scent of it and savoring every drop, her blue eyes on him, grateful.

It always made Steve’s heart soar with pride, to be able to provide her with something as small as a cup of coffee in the morning, and she treated it like he had handed her the most precious gift in the world, those mornings are some of Steve’s most cherished memories.

Now, Steve's own coffee finishes brewing and he hugs the mug close to his face, inhaling, remembering the color of his mom’s hair, her undying love for him, the kisses on his forehead she’d leave every morning and night, he feels the warmth of it travel through his chest.

His mom might not be around anymore physically, but he still spends every morning with her anyways.

 

**Author's Note:**

> steve has been stealing my heart these past couple months so obviously i had to write him being sad, because that's my brand. 
> 
> i appreciate any and all feedback!


End file.
